Red
by Specter-Paulsen
Summary: Sometimes people see red and do things they wouldn't normally do. And sometimes those actions have irreversible consequences. Darvey. Rated M.


**For Vicky & Nour who discussed angry sex on Twitter and sparked this! And for Kinga who helped with some of the finer plot details. **

**And most of all for Nathalie for her encouragement and her suggestions and for just all round being awesome.**

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"_I'm the person you call at six in the morning. Or at midnight when you need someone. We smile, we drink, we flirt."_

The words are still running around in her head and she's still having trouble believing she'd actually said them to him. They've fought many times over the years, but this was one of the worst. She's never been hurt by him quite so badly as when his final words fell between them; "_as far as I'm concerned, your judgement sucks."_

She hates herself for being hurt by that. She hates him for saying it. She even hates Louis for giving actual good advice that she really, _really _doesn't want to take. She doesn't want to apologise. She's angry. With herself, with him, with the situation, with goddamn Paula Agard for taking him from her in the first place. The two glasses of scotch she'd downed after Louis' departure might well be contributing to the maelstrom of feelings inside of her, but her primary emotion is rage. She wants to hit something. She wants to run, scream, stretch until she breaks. And _fuck_, she thinks to herself, she really wants to get laid. She's held back from going home with any man on any date in quite a while. Hoping that maybe Harvey would come to his senses. But it's becoming more and more clear that _that _isn't going to happen. She's never been one for casual sex; she doesn't go out to bars and pick up guys and take them home. If she makes a connection with someone on a date, that's a different story. But right now, she's got energy to expend. Adrenaline and anger and humiliation are coursing through her and she needs an outlet, a release. She wants a hard cock pounding into her, sweaty bodies slapping together, the weight of a man on top of her as she comes. She wants a revenge fuck, to use a man in the way she can't use _him._ Her fists clench and she relishes the bite of her fingernails into her palms. She's wound so tight the slightest thing could break her into a million rage-filled pieces.

She's run through a plethora of emotions tonight. She's been pissed, she's been understanding, she's been sad, she's been hurt, she's been contemplative and she's progressed to full on rage. It only increases when she sees him walking down the hall. Why the hell is he back here?

"Get out," she says when he walks through the door of her office.

"Donna—"

"No. You had your chance," she spits.

"I just want to—"

"I don't give a shit, Harvey! I gave you a chance to talk about this like adults and you threw it back at me. And now, we are _done_." Her eyes flash and she turns away and he feels himself get riled up.

"Will you fucking listen for a second?"

"No, I fucking won't!" She rounds on him and he's never seen her look like this. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say. You're an asshole, Harvey, and if never saw you again, it'd be all for the better. You need to get the hell out of my office."

"The office I _gave _you?" He's taunting her and he knows it. He's pissed and he needs to take it out on someone. Because when it comes down to it, their current situation is all her fault.

"How _dare _you. I earned this office and you fucking know it."

"Well you're sure not living up to it lately." He doesn't need to elaborate because she knows. She always knows, even when he doesn't want her to. He watches her eyes flick to the precise spot she'd kissed him the previous night.

"That had _nothing _to do with work and you know it."

"Didn't it? I'm the managing partner, you're the COO, and you ruined my relationship. So it has _everything _to do with work." He sees her eyes widen at the word ruined and he elaborates. "Yes, you heard right. Paula broke up with me, and that's on _you_. So drink it in, Donna, enjoy it. You got what you wanted."

"You have the nerve to say that to me?" She reaches for her bag and strides toward the door. "I'm going home. I don't need to listen to this shit."

"No. You do not get to walk out on me again." He grabs her wrist and she whirls around to face him, trying to yank her arm free of his grasp, but he holds tight.

"Let go." Her voice is low, dangerous.

"No. You started this shit, you're damn well going to stay here and listen to me."

"No, I'm fucking _not!_" Her eyes are full of rage and he's never seen this expression on her face before. She looks feral, wild and he suddenly feels a wave of lust wash over him. He hates himself for a split second, until she lets out what he can only describe as a moan, and the sound is so purely _sex _that he doesn't think twice before reacting.

They lunge toward one another and their lips meet in a desperate, vengeful kiss. Her bag and coat fall to the floor as her hands fist in his hair, and his hand slips down her back and over her ass before gripping her hips. He pulls her flush against him and bites at her lip as she raises a leg and wraps it around his. He feels the heel of her stiletto dig into his calf and he hisses, his fingers pressing hard into her hip bones.

They're wrapped around each other so intensely that it takes them a second to detangle when Donna wrenches her lips away from his. He stares at her, bewildered, aroused. She stares back at him for a moment, her eyes dark and her lips swollen. She still looks furious and he's never been more turned on.

"We're not doing this here," she says. He catches her meaning immediately and nods curtly.

"Ray's waiting for me out front."

"Fine." She scoops up her bag and coat and stalks out of her office to the elevator, not looking at him once as the metal box descends. She strides out of the building ahead of him, sliding smoothly into the backseat of his car, greeting Ray cheerily, as if nothing was going on. Neither of them say a word to one another as Ray chauffeurs them to Harvey's apartment, nor do they speak or touch in the elevator ride. Only once they're in his home do they react, picking up where they'd left off in the firm's lobby.

Their lips crash together and hands began to roam frantically, desperately trying to get to skin. Their kiss is furious, aggressive, teeth clashing and biting at lips and tongues.

"Fuck," Harvey groans, pulling his lips away from hers for a second.

"Don't talk," Donna snaps, her hand on the back of his neck forcing him back into to her waiting kiss. Harvey obeys, all his blood having rushed south, leaving no willpower or intellect to argue with her. And what man wouldn't obey this siren call?

His hand slides into the gap at the back of her dress, feeling her skin under his palm. The sensation sends a shiver through him - the warmth of her flesh, the fact that he's touching her so freely and she him. He needs this more than ever. His hand moves to the tiny button at her neck, his thick, male fingers fumbling helplessly with the small fastening.

"Just rip it," Donna growls, her mouth and tongue doing wonderous things at his pulse point.

"Donna. this dress is—"

"I don't fucking care." To emphasise the point, she tears at his shirt, ripping buttons and fabric as it falls open, his hard, smooth chest and stomach exposed to her gaze. She marvels for a brief moment at the great shape he's in, the defined lines of his abdominal muscles and the tantalising line of hair that disappears into his pants. When she hears another rip her eyes close briefly. She'd told him to rip it, but the anger and tension already within her causes a new wave of rage to ripple through her body at the sound of her $2800 dress tearing. She feels the back of the dress fall open and his hand is immediately inside it, his fingertips pressing into her shoulder blades and then her spine as his palm roams over skin he hasn't touched in almost thirteen years.

She does the same thing, pushing his shirt off his shoulders as her hands explore his body, reacquainting herself with every inch of him. Their kisses are brushing in their intensity and their touches are hard and rough, desperation and anger their primary emotions.

He pushes her dress over her shoulders and she breaks her contact with his body to free her arms. The satin falls to her waist where the dress is still secured and his right hand finds her breast, slipping inside her bra to pinch her nipple. His left hand is fisted in the fabric at her ass, holding her to him so he can grind into her centre. He's been hard and ready since her office, the silent car ride doing nothing to lessen his want for her. He's so hard it's almost painful and he knows this is going to be quick and messy. He couldn't care less. His muscles are coiled with anger, adrenaline and arousal, and as he bites her bottom lip she growls into his mouth, stoking the desire burning in his belly. A part of him wants to hurt her, to bruise her, to marr her flawless skin with his lust. He's desperate and tense and his emotions are out of control.

She bites his lip in return, tugging it between her teeth as her hands deftly remove his cufflinks and they fall to the floor; _clink, clink_. His shirt follows, landing in a heap behind him as her mouth moves to his collarbone where she nips and sucks at his skin. He shoves her bra down so that it frames her breasts and he grabs hard at the flesh with one hand while the other fights with the knot at her waist; the only thing holding her dress in place. When he finally yanks the knot loose and the dress flutters to the floor his eyes dart to the impossibly tiny thong she's wearing. His erection throbs hard inside the confines of his pants at the promise of being inside her.

She's working now at the button and zip of his slacks, unzipping them and sliding her hand inside to squeeze him. He lets out a low curse and she pulls her hand free, unfastening her bra and dropping it to the floor before gliding toward his bedroom. As he watches her hips sway and the long expanse of her naked back, something niggles at the back of his mind but he can't seem to identify it. He's beyond reason and logic and sense. All he can think about is fucking her. Several long paces and he catches up with her, and he shoves his pants and boxers off his body, leaving them in a heap on the floor with his shoes and socks before climbing on top of her on his bed. He bites at her nipple and she lets out a groan, grabbing a fistful of his hair.

"Are you going to fuck me or not?" She bites out as he pushes a finger inside her to test her readiness. He rolls his eyes and reaches to the bedside drawer for a condom, rolling it on smoothly as she slides her thong off and throws it to the floor.

"Ready?" He asks as he positions himself at her entrance.

"Just fucking do it already."

He slides into her and stops when she moans loudly. The reality of what they are doing suddenly slams into him like a freight train and he's frozen. She's hot and wet around him and he's never felt this kind of completeness before. His heart stutters in his chest as he holds himself above her, and his gaze finds hers. Her eyes change as she meets his, but it's a slow transition from desperate and angry and full of lust, through confusion, to realisation and then settling on fearful.

"What are we doing?" She whispers, voicing the same thought that is struggling to find its way to his vocal chords. There's a moment of silence where they study one another and he begins to feel the uncomfortable sensation of being buried inside her without movement.

"I don't know," he replies hoarsely. They've come to far to back out now, but if she tells him to stop he will. His mind flicks briefly to the idea of a cold shower and he shivers reflexively.

"I don't want to stop," she says and his eyes close, his head dropping to her shoulder.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. _Please,_" she begs, her hips tilting up to his, feeling him slip deeper into her, "fuck me". A guttural sound escapes him and he meets her eyes again, overwhelmed by what he sees there. She's gazing at him like she's never seen him before and her eyes are shining as they stare deep into his soul. He thrusts shallowly, experimentally, and her eyes close, accompanying the loud moan that comes from deep in her throat. He pulls out further and slides home again and finally lets himself give in to the feeling of being buried inside her. It's been too long and as he makes love to her he wonders why they haven't been doing his every night since the last time. How could he have been so blind and stubborn and _stupid_?

Her breathing speeds up and he knows she's getting close. He lowers his head to her neck to hear her panting in his ear and it's so hot that he feels his balls tighten and he knows he won't last much longer. She groans loudly and grips his biceps hard as he begins to pound into her with renewed vigour. He grabs her thigh and pushes her leg upward, bracing himself as his body slams into hers over and over. She's moaning and gasping with every thrust and when she arches upward and pants "_harder_" in his ear, he pulls back slowly, pausing for a second before slamming home, rewarded by her cry of pleasure. His movements sped up and he concentrates hard on not reaching his end before she does. She's gasping and keening and suddenly she cries out "_oh FUCK" _and she's clenching around him, jerking underneath his body as a violent orgasm grips her. He keeps thrusting, her panting and gasping spurring him on until he feels that coiling in his lower abdomen and his cock jerks and erupts. He groans low and long as his orgasm takes over and then he rolls to the side, collapsing next to her in a post coital daze.

It's a matter of minutes before she moves, and it takes him a moment to realise she's getting up.

"Where are you..."

"I'm going home." She's reaching for her thong from the floor.

"Why?"

"_Why_?" She turns to him and he can't help but glance at her breasts. She rolls her eyes. "_That's _why."

"Donna—"

"No. We're not talking about this. It's done, it's over, let's just forget about it."

"I thought—"

"You thought _what_, Harvey?" She snaps. "That you could fuck me and then we'd have some big emotional talk and I'd fall at your feet like one of your lovestruck conquests?"

"No, that's—"

"It's not happening, Harvey. I'm going home. Let's forget it ever happened." She tries to get up again and her grabs her arm.

"Will you let me talk for a minute?"

"I don't want to!" Her voice catches and he knows that sound. She's an inch away from crying and it's the last thing he wants.

"Donna…" his voice softens and he splays his hand on her back. "That's not what this is."

"Then what is it, Harvey?!" She stands up, pulling away from him, and he fights to keep his gaze fixed on her face, rather than her gloriously naked and beautiful body. She whirls around and rifles through his closet, yanking a sweater out of a drawer and pulling it on.

"It's…" he pauses, searching for the right words and her face tightens.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Can you just let me get my thoughts together please?"

"If you don't know what your thoughts are, then this is absolutely pointless." She's angry, defensive and he knows he's doing this all wrong.

"Just let me think please! I'm trying to find the right words."

"Harvey! Most men don't need to _find _the words." She throws her hands up. "You either know how you feel or you don't."

"I know how I feel, Donna, I just don't know how to say it!" The words burst out of him like he's been holding them in all night, but it's been longer, far longer than that.

"It's not rocket science, Harvey! Just fucking say it!"

They stare at each other for a moment and he wants to kiss her again. She's standing at the edge of his bed, his favourite sweater barely concealing her pussy and if he hadn't just orgasmed so recently he'd be hard again at the sight.

"You—"

"Don't," she snaps, holding a finger up. "If you can't say it, I'm leaving and we're never speaking about this ever again."

"I just…" he swallows heavily, pissed that he can't manage to conjure up the words. She watches him struggle and then shakes her head.

"Fine." She turns on her heel and heads for the living room.

"Donna, wait."

"No, Harvey. I'm done waiting. I've waited for _years_ for you. I'm done." She scoops up her ruined dress from the floor, choking back a sob. As she gathers her clothing she waits for him for say something, _anything. _But nothing comes. She's approaching the door, trying to remember if her coat is long enough to cover everything when he calls her name.

"Donna!"

"No, Harvey! No!" she shouts it at him, tears streaming freely now. "I can't go through this again! I can't keep hoping you'll figure it out! I can't keep waiting for you to feel what I feel! I can't keep hurting myself anymore! You're—"

"I fucking love you!" He yells the words at her and her mouth drops open. Her dress slips through her fingers and lands on the floor as she gapes at him. She waits for her to react and when nothing comes, he steps toward her, very aware that he's stark naked and exposed in more ways than one. "Did you—"

"I heard you," she says, her eyes wide and her jaw slack.

"Can you say something?"

"I…" her eyes dart from his face to his freely hanging genitals and a laugh bubbles up in her chest, the emotions of the past twenty four hours overwhelming her. She begins to giggle uncontrollably and he watches her cautiously.

"Are you…"

"I'm sorry!" she gasps through her laughter, but rather than stopping, it increases tenfold and she sinks to her knees, clutching her stomach. "I can't…"

"Okay." He nods curtly and turns his back on her, going back to his bedroom to pull on some clothes. He's humiliated. She pushed him and pushed him until he broke and now she's _laughing_ at him.

"Harvey, wait," she gasps through her giggles, trying to get herself under control.

"What, Donna? I said what you wanted me to say. Now can you just go?"

That sobers her up fast. Her laughter dies as quickly as it began and she rises to her feet, stumbling a little in her haste to get to him. "I'm sorry." She watches him pull a T-shirt over his head and steps toward him, laying a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Harvey. It was a shock, that's all. I wasn't laughing at you." She raises her hand to his face, resting it lovingly on his cheek. She waits patiently for him to meet her eyes, her thumb stroking his cheekbone lightly. He finally looks at her, his eyes full of doubt, fear, apprehension.

"I love you," she says softly. "I've tried not to, but it's not a choice, it's an inevitability. I never thought you would want this, _us. Me_." She swallows against the wave of emotion that saying those words out loud brings. "But I do. I want us and I want _you. _So you need to be totally serious about this. I won't have you breaking my heart again."

"I'm serious," he says. "I've _always_ been serious about you. You're the greatest constant in my life and I'd be nothing and nowhere without you." The words he's struggled to find for years are suddenly spilling out of him, the dam having burst when he finally yelled those three words across the apartment at her. "I've been stupid and blind and stubborn and I'm sorry." He takes her hands, weaving their fingers together. "I love you. It's always been you."

She blinks and a smile begins to spread across her face.

"Did I get it right?" He asks hopefully and her grin widens.

"You got it perfect. Now will you hurry up and kiss me already?" Their lips meet and everything melts away; the therapist, the fights, the ruined dress - nothing matters anymore because the only thing that has ever truly mattered is them. And finally, _finally_, they've got their happy ending.

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**And there you have it. Let me know what you think!**


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